"H'm. You've got a bit of an opinion of yerself, anyhow. If that's
all right, it'll be time enough to clear by daylight. Did you bolt
just as you are--no niggers, no skoff, no anything?"

"No time," was the answer. "So I coom out-with-out everything. Just
like this."

"I can get you a couple of niggers," mused Mills, "an' you'll want a
gun. Then, with skoff for a fortnight, you ought to be up at the
Mazoe before they find your spoor. What do you think?"

"I think i's ver' naice," smiled the other.

"Then we'll hamba lala" (go to sleep), said Mills rising. "I don't
know how you feel, but I'm just done up."

A bed was soon fixed for the Frenchman, who retired with a light-
hearted "goo' night." Mills, keeping full in view his guest's awkward
position, and the necessity for packing him off at daylight,
determined not to sleep. He went out of the kraal and listened to the
night. It spoke with a thousand voices; the great factory of days and
nights was in full swing; but he caught no sound of human approach,
and returned to the huts to prepare his guest's kit for the
departure. He found and partially cleaned an old rifle, and unpacked
a generous donation of cartridges. Meal for the carriers, blankets
and tinned meats for the Frenchman, were all at hand. Candles, a
lantern, matches, gin, a pannikin, a pair of pots, and so on, soon
completed the outfit. Packing is generally an interesting operation,
and Mills was an expert in it. He forgot most of his perplexity and